The Black Parade
by Quiet REBel girl -with VoDKa
Summary: In his defense, Randy'd had to do it. He couldn't just let Seth die, right? Certainly not, not when he cares this much about the kid. If only someone had warned any of them about the mess they were all going to get wrapped up in as a result of one vampire's hasty decision. (Fantasy AU-ish) Warnings inside.


**Title:** The Black Parade, part 1 in The Black Parade Universe

**Chapter:** 1: The End.

**Pairing:** Multiple

**Rating:** M. Hard, hard M.

**Summary:** In his defense, Randy'd _had_ to do it. He couldn't just let Seth die, right? Certainly not, not when he cares this much about the kid. If only someone had warned them about the mess they were all going to get wrapped up in as a result of one vampire's hasty decision. (Fantasy AU-ish)

**Disclaimer:** I don't own shit.

**Author's Note:** So one night, I took a whole lot of Nyquil, because my allergies are ridiculous this time of year, and as a result, this dream happened. Then I immediately contacted my BFF and we plotted out the rest of this universe, and suddenly, we have this! Haha. Hopefully I can make my way through all the epicness we've planned, but either way, here's the first piece.

**Warnings:** Blood, gore, traumatic situations, supernatural themes, lots of mansex, violence, etc. This is gonna be a bumpy ride, boys and girls.

_~C'mon C'mon C'mon I said_  
_(Save me!) Get me the hell out of here_  
_(Save me!) Too young to die and my dear_  
_(You can't!) If you can hear me just walk away and_  
_(Take me!)_

_**WWE Payback 2014**_

Blood. That's Seth's first real indicator that something is seriously wrong. Sure, he'd felt significantly more pain than he'd been anticipating when he'd leapt from the Tron, but really, there's no way to prepare for something like that, so at the time, he'd figured he'd just underestimated what exactly he was in for. Instead of panicking there and ruining a perfectly good match, after an _amazing_ spot, he'd brushed off the excruciating stabbing in his side and finished the match as planned. Now, though, looking at the red spots on his hand, spots that multiply with every cough, he thinks, _shit, maybe this is worse than I thought. _Still, he pushes himself through the pain, shakily heading on toward the showers. Surely, he tells himself, a nice, hot shower will help. It's either that, or he's going to have to back to the trainer's room, which is quite possibly one of the last things he wants to do. Initially, he had opted out of going to see them, insisting that his brothers were far more injured, deserved the attention more, but as a sudden dizzying wave of nausea takes him to his knees mid-stride, he starts to reconsider.

Bracing himself against the wall of the hallway, he tries to breathe steadily, concentrate strictly on that instead of just how _terrible_ he feels now that his adrenaline is fading, but it quickly becomes too much and he retches, blood and bile spilling forth in a rush and staining the floor in front of him. It's an alarming amount of blood, too, the coppery taste filling his mouth and the dark red spreading across the floor suddenly all he can focus on as he fights to get back to his feet, about face to head back in the direction he came from, back toward _people_. Wiping his mouth on the back of his forearm, streaking the arm with blood as well, he decides it's definitely not the trainers he needs to see, it's a fucking doctor, one in an emergency room, preferably the nearest one, he thinks, the pain growing more and more violent by the minute. He nearly has to lean against the wall as he walks, his legs trembling and the white spots blooming before his eyes threatening to take him down again the entire time, but he at least manages to make it into the nearest room before he collapses completely to his knees once more, absolutely unable to stand any longer. Fighting to peer through his blurred vision, he briefly notices that he's found someone's private locker room for the night, and at their startled gasp, he thinks, _thank God_. He doesn't even know who it is, but he doesn't _care_, can only hope it's not someone who hates him as the pain throbs on, another coughing fit being ripped from him and spraying blood across the tile beneath him as a result.

"Shit, _Seth_!" he hears, but it's warped, and sounds so far away. He looks toward the voice, tries to make out the person behind it, but all he can see is white, and he struggles to blink it away, suddenly very nauseous again. He whimpers, sitting back on his heels and grabbing at his head, trying desperately to breathe.

Right as he feels as if he's about to pass out from the sheer agony, the fierce twisting in his stomach, he manages a near pathetic, "Please help me."

The words seem to take all the energy he has left, though, and he just _knows_ he's going down, falling forward almost instantly. Closing his eyes, he steels himself for the feeling of the floor as he almost melts toward it. But, the cool tile never comes. Instead, he feels arms wrap around him, his sweaty forehead pressing against soft skin, hears his name being repeated more urgently, much closer this time, though he still can't quite place the voice through the ringing in his ears brought on by the ever pressing _pain_. He can't find his own voice enough to respond, either, just whimpers again while his whole body trembles against the one holding him, coughs racking through him once more. When he hears his name once again, it's much softer, and accompanied by a genuinely heartfelt apology. He only has a brief moment to consider what it could possibly be for, before suddenly, there's a sharp pain in his neck, right where it meets his shoulder, a pain that spreads white hot from the initial point of contact and begins to intensify, increasing the rest of his misery tenfold. Seth thinks he manages a scream, but he can't exactly be sure, because in the next few breaths, he finally, _finally_ passes out.

**XXXXX**

Blood. Randy had been smelling it since the match, an absolutely overwhelming amount of it, and once he'd gotten back near his locker room, the aroma had only grown stronger. He'd battled to block it out, focusing as much as he could on tending to his own minor injuries, getting changed, preparing to leave, but the smell of it was near intoxicating, completely permeating his senses against his will. In fact, the entire time he moved about his room, it seemed as if the scent was growing closer, more potent the longer he'd tried to fight it. It's not until Seth Rollins, of all people, bursts through the door to the locker room, dropping immediately to his knees and coughing up a harsh splattering of red that he realizes _why_ he'd been quite so hypnotized. _Of course_, he thinks.

"Shit, _Seth_!" he exclaims, and it's almost as if his voice causes the boy even more agony than he's in, because he suddenly rocks back to sit on his heels, clutching his head frantically and letting out the most pitiful whimper.

As he watches the younger struggle to catch his breath, Randy struggles himself to fight through the haze of the intoxication, the strength of the smell entirely too much for him now that it's _right fucking here_. It's difficult, but Seth seems to be in a real kind of pain, from something very serious if the current scent is anything to go by, so he pushes through, shakes his head to clear the fog as the high flyer begins to beg him for help. Then, Seth starts to drop, and Randy finds himself moving on autopilot, dropping to one knee to catch the boy at the last second, pulling him close, resting his flushed skin against an inked shoulder.

With the younger in his arms, it's suddenly more apparent than ever just how dire the situation actually is, and Randy takes a deep breath in a further attempt to steady himself as he feels himself begin to shake, Seth coughing out another round of blood onto his abs and both their laps. The kid is bleeding, a _lot_, way too fucking much, and it's all internal, organs already starting to shut down as a result, causing him an excruciating amount of pain. Seth is going to _die_, right here in his fucking arms in a random room in an arena, unless Randy does something _right now_, and as far as the Viper's senses can tell him, that something doesn't have time to be a trip to the hospital. He's got to act immediately, no other choice at this point, and if that's the case, then there's really only one option that he can think of. Unfortunately, it's one Seth will surely despise him for, _forever_, Randy knows beyond a shadow of a doubt. But, he tells himself, there's nothing else he can _do_, can't stomach the thought of losing the other wrestler entirely, not like _this_ (not because of _him_, he thinks, but pushes the thought away as quickly as it comes). So, he closes his eyes, exhaling slowly, shakily, in a desperate attempt to come to terms with his decision before he completely loses his nerve, and the opportunity. Carefully, he sniffs out the younger's pulse point, pressing his lips to it softly once it's found and pulling the boy ever closer.

"Seth...I'm _so sorry_." he whispers, lips still grazing soft skin, his fangs dropping down as he feels Seth begin to fade.

Then, before he can second guess himself, he sinks his teeth into the flesh of the neck below him, and begins to drink.

**XXXXX**

Blood. It's fucking _everywhere_ by the time Hunter finally makes it back near the locker room he and his boys had claimed for the night. And he really does mean fucking _everywhere_, splattered down the walls and the floor of half the hallway, a large pool of it not far from the door, and it takes everything in the older wrestler to power through the near overwhelming scent of it and stumble toward the apparent source in his own locker room. The very last thing he excepts to find when he almost crashes through the door, however, is Randy knelt on the floor, cradling a sweaty, trembling Seth Rollins in his arms, blood all over the room as well as the two men before him. When Randy looks up startled at the sound, the first thing Hunter notices are the lowered fangs, blood gleaming from the tips, and his eyes narrow on his young companion.

"What the hell did you do?" Hunter growls as he slams the door behind him, barely holding himself back from dropping his own fangs in his rage. His eyes narrow further when the Viper curls more around Rollins almost defensively the closer he gets.

"I didn't have any other choice Hunter, I swear. He was fucking _dying_, Hunter! I-I had to!" Randy replies almost in a panic, and the older's eyes widen slowly as the words begin to sink in.

"Randy. Tell me you didn't." Hunter says, barely more than a breath, and now that he's standing above them, he can see Randy shaking as well, grip tightening further on the boy in his arms.

"I _had to_, Hunter. I couldn't lose him..." Randy trails off, focus turning to Seth instead of his mentor, and the older man's stomach suddenly drops.

Hunter can't help the urgency in his tone, his actions, as he hits his knees beside the younger, grabbing him by tattooed shoulders and shaking him a bit to get his attention once more.

"This is bad, Randy, really fucking bad. He's a _seraph_, for fuck's sake!" Hunter exclaims, the severity of the situation beginning to fall across Randy's face right before his eyes. It nearly makes the older ache watching his companion look from him to Rollins and back, anxiety mixing with worry in his eyes all the while.

"But...I...he...what do we _do_?" the Viper eventually manages, clinging to Seth like he'll disappear if he doesn't.

Hunter takes a moment to let his eyes sweep over the boy in question again, closer this time. His skin is pale, lighter than Hunter's ever seen it, and he's drenched in sweat, despite the fact that he's shaking like he's going to catch frostbite at any moment. The older wrestler frowns deeply, concern overtaking his entire being as he reaches a hand out himself, brushing some of Seth's sweat-soaked hair from his face where it now rests against Randy's chest. When the high flyer whimpers at the touch, flinching away and turning into Randy a bit, Hunter huffs out the slightest of sighs, mind made up for him.

"We take him with us." the COO finally answers his distressed friend as he stands, adding when Randy shoots him a confused look, "Come on, pick him up! We've got to _go_, Randy, now, and he's coming with us."

"Are you sure?" Randy questions, despite that he's already lifting Seth carefully from the ground and more securely into his arms.

"Well, we don't really have any other choice now." Hunter explains, hurrying about the room gathering their things as quickly as possible and pulling out his phone to text Mecury simultaneously. No way could they just leave all this blood here, he thinks. Tugging on his shirt and grabbing he and Randy's bags, he continues, regarding the still-shaking Seth with somewhat sad eyes, "It's gonna be a hell of a night for this kid, and he needs to be around the right Magic to handle it. _If_ he can handle it."

At this, Randy pauses, stopping right in front of the door to turn even more anxious eyes to his boss and cradling the high flyer even closer.

"I'm so sorry." the Viper says, voice barely above a whisper.

Hunter just pushes the door open for Randy to carry the boy through, looking at Seth, instead, as he mutters, "I'm not the one you need to apologize to."

**XXXXX**

Blood. That's all that's left of Evolution by the time Dean and Roman finally finish up in the trainer's room and make their way back toward their own locker room for the evening. Joey Mercury is hard at work trying to clean up the mess to the best of his ability as they pass by, but it looks like he's barely gotten started, the mess is so huge. The very thought makes Dean snort out a laugh that makes the smaller man flinch.

"Man, Ro, I knew we did a number on the schmucks, but I didn't think it was _that_ bad. Fuck, believe in the Shield, amirite?" Dean jokes loudly, and Roman can't help but chuckle along with him, despite the absolutely gruesome display all around them. He laughs even louder when Mercury jumps harshly at Dean's hand clapping down on his shoulder, smirking face right in the smaller man's as he says, "Give your Masters our regards, alright?"

Then, the blonde is straightening up, slinging an arm around Roman's shoulders with a wide grin as he begins to lead his friend away with an outright saunter. They only actually make it a few steps before the Authority henchman clears his throat, voice stopping the Hounds in their tracks.

"Actually, it's not their blood, Ambrose." the slighter man calls after them, and Dean tosses a curious look back at him.

"'Scuse me?" Dean demands, letting his arm fall away from Roman and turning to face Joey more as the other stops cleaning, sits up to actually face them.

"I said, it's not theirs. All of this came from your friend Seth." Mercury replies, almost smug in his response.

The instant he hears the name, Dean is across the hallway in a flash, movements so quick that even Roman can't stop him as he throws the much smaller man up against the wall by his throat, feet dangling several inches off the ground. Joey squirms in Dean's grip, eyes wide and every ounce of confidence suddenly gone in the face of the anger before him. He struggles to breathe, clawing with both hands at the one around his neck even as anything but angelic blue eyes narrow even further at him.

"You had better be fucking lying to me." Dean snarls, and Joey can feel every bit of the man's Seraphim strength as his hold tightens.

And Mercury tries his damndest to answer, opening and closing his mouth several times, but he can never manage to gather enough air to do more than gasp, which only seems to add to the blonde's fury. Right as Joey begins to fear Dean is going to choke him out right here in the hall, amidst Rollins' blood, Reigns speaks up from behind the older man, the blessed voice of reason to the current situation.

"Dean, for God's sake, he can't answer you if he can't breathe. Put him down and let the man talk." Roman tells his friend, trying to calm the blue eyed Seraph with a light hand on his shoulder, one that Dean immediately shrugs off as he drops Mercury to shaky feet with a sigh and an eye roll.

Barely giving him time to recover, Dean shoves the much smaller man back up against the wall roughly, glaring down at him as he spits, "Fine. Now _talk_. Where. The fuck. Is Seth?"

Joey swallows thickly, fighting the urge to cower in front of the wrestler. Finally finding his voice, he manages to reply, "I'm so sorry. It's not what you think. They didn't hurt him."

"I don't think that's what I asked you, scumbag, now was it?" Dean snaps, anger beginning to give way to outright rage as he continues, "I'm going to give you one more chance. Where in the _fuck_ did your disgusting vampire fucking Masters take _my partner_?"

"They had to take him back to the Mansion! M-Master Orton bit him, and Master Helmsley wasn't sure he'd survive the Change, so they _had_ to take him to make sure he didn't _die, _but they're bringing hi-"

It's all the bald man has the chance to get out before he finds himself flung down the hall, clinging to consciosness as he lands all too hard on the back of his head right back in the puddle of blood, sliding a bit in it. Dean doesn't waste any time following him, either, a boot nailing him roughly in the side accompanied by a warped shout that he's pretty sure is a curse. He tries and fails to curl in on himself, shield his body from the older man's attack, but Dean is too furious at this new information, lashing out at any body part he can reach. He's just about to give up, let his body succumb to unconsciousness, when he hears the Seraph being yanked away and down the hall by his companion. Closing his eyes, Mercury sends up thanks to a God he doesn't necessarily believe in.

Dean, on the other hand, couldn't be more livid, shoving at Roman the moment his friend's hands land on his biceps and begin to drag him away, still spitting mad despite the common sense the older is attempting to explain to him as he leads him down the hall.

"Dammit, Dean, beating the shit out of Mercury isn't going to get us into the Mansion! It isn't going to change Seth back, if that sack of shit is telling the truth, either. You _know_ we're not getting on to their grounds tonight. Right now, there is _nothing_ we can do but wait until tomorrow when they have to bring him to the arena. I mean, they can't just _keep_ him." Roman tries to tell the blonde, half carrying him to get him into the locker room when they reach it.

Dean, apparently, hasn't heard a word he's said, though, immediately digging his cell phone from the depths of his bag and calling his lover's phone, convincing himself that everyone is playing some kind of colossal joke on him, all working together to trick him, and that Seth is _fine_, will answer his phone the second he sees it's Dean calling. _Of course_ Roman is right, though, and the second the blonde registers that the call has gone straight to voicemail, he screams, hurling his phone across the room with all of his strength, not even caring when it shatters against the wall, pieces scattering around the floor. This can't be happening, he thinks, this can't be _fucking_ happening. Seth _can't_ be one of those goddamn soul-suckers, he _can't_ have lost the boy to _Randy fucking Orton_ and those _asshole _fucking _pieces_ of _vampire trash_.

"_Motherfucker!_" he cries out suddenly, spinning around and striking out at the wall in front of him.

Just as his fist is about to connect, however, he feels himself yanked back into large, strong arms, Roman half-nuzzling into the crook of his neck in a desperate attempt to calm him down. He knows if that's the route his friend is going, he must be serious, so the Seraph makes the extra effort, takes a few deep breaths in an attempt to steady himself as he feels the older do the same against his neck, albeit much slower, calmer. After a moment, Roman's voice cuts through his still too angry breathing, arms tightening around him as he speaks.

"We're gonna get him back, okay? And he's going to be fine. I promise." the older says, voice barely loud enough for Dean to hear it.

And because he feels like he doesn't have any other choice but to trust Roman, he squeezes his eyes closed, leaning back into his companion's grasp, nodding slowly. One thing is certain either way, he tells himself: he's going to _kill_ Orton.


End file.
